She made a good point
blunt, jabbing it into her legs
every two weeks, until they woke up.

It's like she always told you,
those legs were meant for runnin'--
when they weren't behind her elbows.

This time was to be different.
She screwed her feet to the ground,
but then fell on her palms.

"I still think he's the one."
Maybe she has a point
in her pocket, poking her thighs.

12/14/2007

Posted on 12/14/2007
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